


Unexpected

by DiscoSam



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But there will be sex in the morning, Crack, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Drinking Games, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous John Watson, John Watson takes consent seriously, Light Angst, M/M, Marijuana, Military Kink, Mutual Pining, No Dubious Consent Here, No Sex, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Porny without porn, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Sherlock is Not a Virgin, Truth or Dare, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12697878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoSam/pseuds/DiscoSam
Summary: “Are you two…?”Irene gave John a devilish grin while Sherlock attempted an 'I’m innocent' face before the they caught each other’s eyes and started laughing again.John shook his head and peeled off his coat, grumbling as he took off his shoes. “Jesus. You are, aren’t you? You’re high as kites?”***Sherlock, Irene and John get high together. Buckle up.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Shenanigans ahead. Please read the tags. Not beta'd or brit-picked, so if you notice any glaring errors, please let me know. Enjoy!

John trudged through the snow in a sour mood. His date had gone rather poorly. It was only the fifth date he had been on since Mary and he didn’t feel like things were getting any easier. He used to find it easy, chatting up women in bars or cafes, but now it just felt forced. So much had happened to him in the last few years that sometimes he felt like a different person. He liked the person he used to be. He’s not so sure about this version of himself.

This weekend would be a nice chance to try to feel like himself again. Rosie was staying at Harry’s for a ‘girls weekend,’ so John was kid-free and eager to make the most of it. He had lined up a date for Friday night and rather hoped to take the woman back to his place for a shag (it had been too long), but instead he was leaving the restaurant alone with not even the promise of a second date. With nothing to do back home, he pulled out his phone as he left the restaurant and sent out a text.

_You home? Mind if I come over?_

Before he could even put the mobile back into his pocket he felt it vibrate.

_Yes, I’m home. No, I don’t mind. You are always welcome, John. SH_

Thank God. Even if the rest of the night involves John watching bad telly while Sherlock pokes at body parts, it would still be better than going back to an empty house.

He was just about to Baker Street when his mobile buzzed again.

_I probably should have mentioned that I’m not alone. SH_

John stopped in his tracks. Who else would be there with him?

_Greg?_

_Who? SH_

_Lestrade!_

_Oh. No. SH_

John began moving again and found that his feet were carrying him faster than before, with a prickle of jealousy he would never admit to. Who the hell would Sherlock have over? His heart rate picked up at the thought, but he dismissed the worrying quickly. Must be someone they know. Molly? Mrs. Hudson? _Oh, of course._

_Tell Mycroft to bugger off. I’m almost there._

John reached the front door and as soon as he opened it, his nose was assaulted by an instantly recognizable smell. Holy hell, it was strong. He quickly climbed the stairs and opened the door to the flat. “Mrs. Hudson must be at it agai-“

His voice trailed off when he was struck by the sight of Irene Adler snuggled up on the sofa with Sherlock, the two talking and laughing. Sherlock’s legs were stretched out in front of him while Irene’s were draped across his body, reclining against the arm of the sofa. John had been too shocked at first to notice that the flat smelled even more potent than it was downstairs. _Oh, good Lord…_

“Are you two…?”

Irene gave John a devilish grin while Sherlock attempted an _I’m innocent_ face before the they caught each other’s eyes and started laughing again.

John shook his head and peeled off his coat, grumbling as he took off his shoes. “Jesus. You are, aren’t you? You’re high as kites?”

Irene slid off the sofa and crossed the room towards John. “Well nice to see you too, Doctor Watson,” she said, as she gently placed her hand on his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I would say the same, but I wouldn’t mean it. Not dead, I see?” He kept sneaking glances over at Sherlock, trying to understand just what in the hell was going on here.

“I’ve been in hiding, but it’s been awfully boring, as I’m sure you understand – living in the suburbs and all.” John was pretty sure his eye started twitching. “I needed some fun.”

John let out a forced laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Haha, yeah, just decided to call up your good pal Sherlock for some fun?”

“I don’t know, John.” She tilted her head playfully. “He’s pretty fun to me.”

 _She’s messing with your head. Don’t take anything she says seriously._ Sherlock turned his body and laid across the length of the sofa – his shirt sliding up his stomach just enough to expose a small patch of porcelain skin. John unintentionally licked his licks and his eyes darted back to Irene to see if she noticed. Her lips curled into a smirk and he knew he had been caught.

“I’m sorry about your date,” Sherlock announced, with amusement.

At that, Irene bounced back across the room to perch on the arm of the sofa next to Sherlock. “Oh, please, tell me more.”

John pointed at Sherlock as he sat down in his chair and practically growled, “Don’t you start.”

Sherlock looked John up and down before biting his bottom lip and muttering, “I won’t say anything about that boring personal trainer with two poodles and a family at home. Did you know before the date that she was married?”

Irene burst into a fit of giggles and Sherlock soon joined in. John clenched his fist and took a deep breath, strongly considering walking right back out the door. God, these two were going to kill him if this was how the rest of the evening was going to go.

As their giggles wore down, Irene started running her fingers through Sherlock’s curls and John couldn’t stop the rage sniff from escaping his nostrils. He was positive she was doing it on purpose, just to make him jealous. And dammit, it was working. Sherlock was clearly more open to physical touch while he was high because he’d never seen the man allow anyone to touch him like that. Or maybe he was always like that with Irene when they were in private. A new wave of jealousy hit and he had to tear his gaze away before he completely lost his cool. _Get it together, Watson._

“So how long are you, uh, staying?”

“Just the night. I’ll be gone in the morning.” _Thank God._ “And what about you, John? Are you planning to stay the night?” He was sure she asked the question with as much innuendo as possible, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“Actually, Harry has Rosie all weekend, so I’m free for the next few days. But if you two want some alone time…”

At that Sherlock lazily waved his hand in the air. “Please, John. Stay as long as you’d like. Don’t let this little devil scare you away.”

Irene gently tugged on his hair. “Call me names again and I’ll tug harder next time.”

“Yes, well, that _is_ your area of expertise.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

John was suddenly feeling very out of place, so he stood up and said, “Yeah, you know what, I’d better leave you-“

“No!” Sherlock tried to jump up off the sofa but ended up tumbling over on the floor onto his side and hysterical laughs erupted from both Sherlock and Irene. John sighed and held back a laugh at seeing the great Sherlock Holmes in such a state. He was too irritated and proud to give them the satisfaction, so he maintained the grumpy look on his face.

Sherlock couldn’t seem to get himself back up because he was laughing too hard, so he started crawling over to John on hands and knees. The sight forced another accidental lip lick. Sherlock stopped at John’s feet and looked up at him with glazed eyes. “John. Stay.” 

John studied him for just a moment and realized this could be just what they need to get back on track. Things have been strained between the two considering everything that’s happened, and they’ve never gotten back to where they used to be since before… well, honestly, since before the jump.

Besides, John’s always had a hard time saying no to this man.

“Fine. But I’m gonna need a few stiff drinks if I have to put up with both of you all night.”

He looked past Sherlock at Irene, who was currently running her tongue against the rolling paper of a fresh joint and locking eyes with John. “Or, you could join us.” When she was done, she swayed over to John and whispered, “What do you say, Doctor? Care to have a little fun?”

John looked back down to where Sherlock was still kneeling at his feet and found a mischievous grin on Sherlock’s face and twinkle in his eyes as he looked up at John. It was sexy as hell.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... why not.”

John helped Sherlock up and they all piled onto the sofa. John studied Irene and Sherlock as they took the first few puffs. When it got passed to John he looked over at Sherlock with a look that said _tell me to stop._ Sherlock just smiled in response and it was all John needed. He brought the joint to his lips and inhaled, feeling the smoke burn in his lungs. He just barely choked on the exhale, but it was enough to throw him into a fit of coughs. Sherlock chuckled and patted his back until the coughs subsided.

The joint got passed around a few more times and John became more practiced with each turn. His body had started to tingle pleasantly and everything started getting a little hazy. He smoked just enough to get a nice high. Too much, and he knew from his days back in Uni that he would just fall asleep. No, he wanted to stay awake and at least somewhat alert to see where the night took them. He couldn’t help but watch each time Sherlock put the joint to his lips. It was a bit mesmerizing.

When they were done, they all settled further into the couch, John surrounded on each side by Sherlock and Irene, and they seemed to let a few minutes (or an hour, who knows) tick by while simply feeling the sensations running through their bodies. John’s mind was slowed down to a blissful state and he started thinking about the fact that they had all just smoked pot together, which made John start giggling. Then his laughter made Sherlock start laughing, and then Irene joined in and they were all just laughing at each other. He’s too old to be acting like this, he thought, but it did feel pretty great. He needed this. He needed to loosen up a bit.

When their giggles slowed, John realized how quiet it was in the flat. It seemed like each noise was amplified when he put his attention on it, and he suggested Sherlock play some of his violin. Irene started weakly clapping her hands and John shoved Sherlock off of the couch, playfully kicking his arse to get him to move. Sherlock stumbled over to the case and pulled out the violin, chuckling as he attempted to get ready to play. He began running his bow against the strings and when the sound filled the air, John felt like he could cry it sounded so beautiful. Sherlock only played for a few minutes before dropping his arms and flopping back onto the sofa.

“I can’t,” Sherlock pouted. “It’s too much work.”

John turned over to Sherlock and cupped his face with his hands, forcing Sherlock to meet his eyes. “That was beautiful. Your playing – no, listen to me, Sherlock – your playing is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. And I miss it – every day. It’s gorgeous. You are so talented. You are magnificent.”

Sherlock blushed and tried to turn away, but since he couldn’t he closed his eyes for a few moments before opening them again with a serious expression. “Thank you, John.”

At that, Irene stood up and shouted, “Ooh! It’s getting hot in here, wouldn’t you two agree?” John released Sherlock from his grip as Irene opened the nearest window a crack and lit a cigarette. “What now, boys?” Sherlock laid his head against John’s shoulder and John’s heart skipped a beat. He could practically _hear_ Irene roll her eyes. “Oh for the love of – look, I didn’t come here just to watch two men fall asleep together on the sofa together. At least not fully clothed. C’mon, let’s _do_ something.”

Sherlock sat up straight and began absently plucking the violin in his lap. “Tea.”

In that moment John realized how dry his mouth was. Tea sounded perfect. He got up and made his way to the kitchen.

“And gingernuts!” Sherlock called.

John rummaged through the kitchen and yelled, “We don’t have any biscuits Sherlock. In fact, I can’t find anything edible. Wait, are these leftovers? Nope, that’s a kidney.”

Sherlock smacked his lips and pouted. “I need a snack, John.”

“When was the last time you ate?” The silence meant it had been too long. Great, now that he’s thinking about food, he realizes he’s got the munchies too. “Well, I dunno. Fuck! Now I’m hungry too.” Maybe they could get some food delivered?

“Hudders.”

“Oh my god, yes, that’s brilliant, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled off the sofa and they started heading towards the stairs. Irene waved them away. “Good Lord, your poor landlady… I’ll wait here. Don’t be too long!”

They fumbled their way downstairs and knocked on Mrs. Hudson’s door, giggling the whole way. Mrs. Hudson opened the door and looked concerned at first, but then took a whiff and started chuckling. “Oh dear. You two must be hungry. Come in. I’ve got plenty of treats.”

Sherlock and John spent God knows how long with Mrs. Hudson, drinking tea and shoveling biscuits into their mouths. Mrs. Hudson was probably talking the whole time, but John was mostly zoned out or sneaking peeks at Sherlock. Each time they made eye contact they started laughing and had to look away again to regain their composure. John and Sherlock have gotten into lots of ridiculous situations, but this was turning out to be one for the books.

When they finally left, it was practically midnight. Sherlock grabbed as many treats as he could fit into his arms on the way out and they made the trek back upstairs. When they got back into the flat, Irene was nowhere in sight. _Oh thank God, maybe she left._ Just when he was about to start celebrating her departure, he heard Sherlock’s bedroom door opening and turned to see Irene walking out in a short, red nightdress with a lacy black dressing gown tied loosely around her waist. Even in John’s hazy mental state, he couldn’t suppress the groan of annoyance. She was flaunting it in his face – the fact that she was staying in Sherlock’s room. She really was ruthless.

“About time! I was beginning to worry about you.”

“No you weren’t,” Sherlock muttered behind him.

“Okay, you’re right, I wasn’t. I’m _bored_.” Jesus, no wonder they get along so well. They’re like the same person. At least she hasn’t started shooting holes in the wall.

She made her way toward the sitting room where John and Sherlock had just sat down in their respective chairs, perching on the arm of Sherlock’s chair. “Alright, boys, let’s make things interesting. Pick a game.”

“Cluedo,” Sherlock suggested with a smirk.

John tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, chuckling. “Never again.”

“Oh for God’s sake, we’re not playing a board game!” Irene shouted. “What party games do you know?”

Sherlock shrugged and mumbled, “I don’t have room in my mind palace for trivial things like that.”

Irene looked exasperated as she walked across the room to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. “I’m sure that brain of yours can manage to catch on quick. We’ll pick a game with easy rules.” She poured three glasses and passed them around, raising her glass into a cheers. “The game, gentlemen, is truth or dare.”

John giggled. It had probably been decades since the last time he played truth or dare. Oh dear Lord, truth or dare with Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler? What did he get himself into?

“The rules are easy, Sherlock,” Irene said, as she lazily pulled a chair over, “We take turns asking the person next to us ‘truth or dare.’ Pick a truth and you have to answer the question honestly. Pick dare, and, well, I think you get it.” She placed herself in between the men and sat down straddling the chair. Her gown ran up her thighs and John quickly looked away, trying to turn off the automatic urge to sneak a peek. He glanced at Sherlock to see what kind of reaction he had, but he seemed oblivious.

“I’ll start,” Irene said with a mischievous smile, “We’ll go the right.” She turned to Sherlock and narrowed her eyes. “I want to be the one asking you questions. Let’s find out if that nickname of yours suits you.” _The Virgin_ , John remembered.

“Sherlock, truth or dare.”

“Dare. And _don’t_ go easy on me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I want you to take a shot.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Really? _That’s_ what you come up with? I told you not-“

“Oh no no, you didn’t let me finish. I want you to take a body shot.” She smiled sweetly. “From John.”

John felt his his heart rate pick up. Sherlock looked momentarily lost but then his features returned to the easy smile he’s kept on his face all evening. “Easy.”

John bit his lip.

“Okay Sherlock,” he said, standing up. “Where do you want me?”

Sherlock gave him a heated look. “On the sofa. Take off that hideous jumper.”

John pulled off the jumper as he moved across the room and laid down on the sofa, pulling his shirt up above his stomach. “I’ve taken lots of body shots, but can’t say I’ve ever given one.” John rested his hands behind his head and watched as Sherlock took the cap off the bottle and leaned closer.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there, John?”

Sherlock began pouring the alcohol into John’s navel and John did his best to stay still, despite the nervous chuckle bubbling up inside him. “I’m surprised you even know what a body shot is.”

Sherlock set down the bottle and looked over at John. “I’m not as inexperienced as you might think.” He gave John a smug look before placing a hand on John’s thigh and bringing his head down towards John’s stomach. John looked up to the ceiling and took a few deep breaths. _Holy shit._ John felt Sherlock place his lips against John’s skin and then Sherlock sucked hard and began to run his tongue along the inside and outside of John’s navel to lick up any remaining liquid. John risked a glance down at Sherlock and Sherlock looked up to meet his eyes – curls falling into his face and tongue still grazing John’s skin. _Oh my God._ It was about the sexiest thing he had ever seen. John bit the inside of his cheeks, _hard_. It was all he could do to avoid moaning. His body was tingling, and he suddenly felt light headed.

When Sherlock was done he got back up and licked his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. John couldn’t look away. For a brief moment Sherlock let his gaze roam over John’s body and John worried that his body might be giving him away. He quickly got up but took an extra moment to get steady once he was on his feet. Sherlock placed a hand on John’s back and nudged him to move forward. He was still slightly dizzy.

When they sat back down, Irene was grinning so wide she looked positively wicked. “Well that was fun, wasn’t it?” She started fanning herself with her hand. “It certainly met my expectations.”

_It exceeded mine._

“Sherlock, I do believe it’s your turn to ask John a question.”

“Ah, yes,” Sherlock focused his attention on him. “Truth or dare?”

John’s not quite sure he’s ready to be honest with anyone, so he blurts out, “dare.”

“Hm…” Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin and looked down at the floor for a minute, lost in thought. John could tell the moment he thought of his dare, because in a flash Sherlock’s eyes lit up and darted to John’s. “John,” he said slowly. “Is your army beret still in the closet upstairs?”

John thought about it. “Yeah, I think so. Wait, how did you know-“

“Go get it.”

 _Of course_ Sherlock’s gone through his things. That shouldn’t surprise him by now.

John headed upstairs in search of the beret, finding the box tucked far back in the closet. Jesus, he forgot how much stuff he had left in 221B. He brushed off some of the dust and quickly returned downstairs, wondering what Sherlock was going to have him do.

“Got it. What now?”

A small smile played on Sherlock’s lips when he saw the beret in John’s hands. “Put it on and wear it for the remainder of the game, and John – I want you to pull rank anytime you feel it necessary. As often as possible.”

John stood up straight and put the beret on, studying Sherlock’s expression as he did so. Sherlock’s eyes widened the moment the beret was settled on his head and John was filled with a surge of confidence.

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“I think you mean yes, _sir_.”

John saw Sherlock swallow hard. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

_I could get used to this._

John returned to his chair, noticing that Irene had made her way over to the window again and was blowing smoke out into the chilly air. Sherlock immediately joined her, leaning his long body against the wall next to the window. Once again, John found himself paying close attention to the way Sherlock’s lips closed around the cigarette and the round shape of his mouth as he exhaled.

Irene looked at John from across the room and hummed appreciatively. “I love a man in uniform. So sexy. Sherlock, doesn’t John look sexy?”

Sherlock didn’t say a word, but he let his eyes roam down John’s body and then back up to lock eyes with him. He held John’s gaze as he slowly brought the cigarette to his perfectly shaped mouth. The look was heated and John was sure it was as close to a “yes” as he could ever expect to get from Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock let out a breath of smoke through the window and turned back to John. “I believe you have something to ask Irene, _sir._ ”

Shit, John hadn’t given any thought to what he might ask Irene.

“Two dares so far,” Irene announced. “Time to switch it up. Truth.”

John racked his brain for things he wanted to know about Irene but was coming up short. There are plenty of things he would like to know about Sherlock, but he couldn’t come up with anything about her. Unless… maybe she could get him the answers he craved.

“Right. Tell me: what’s Sherlock like in bed?”

Irene exhaled smoke from her lungs and sighed. “I don’t know, you should ask someone who’s slept with him.”

 _Wait, what?_ “You mean, you haven’t…?” Sherlock started chuckling and Irene shot him a glare.

“But Sherlock,” he continued, “I thought you said-“

“I said I _text_ her sometimes. I never said I have sex with her. You drew your own conclusions, which were, as usual, wrong.”

Irene shrugged. “I’ve tried.”

John struggled to wrap his head around this new piece of information. He had always thought Sherlock was interested in The Woman. This changes everything.

Sherlock flicked ash out the window. “It’s my turn now, yes? Alright, I’ll give you what you both want.”

Both John and Irene snapped their heads to look at Sherlock. “Dinner?!” Irene asked, hopeful.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “The answer to the question you’ve wanted to ask me since the moment we met. I pick truth.”

Irene regarded Sherlock skeptically. “I suppose I have to choose my words carefully. You’re not getting away with a yes or no question. I want details. So, here we go. Mr. Holmes, describe your sexual history.”

John wondered the same thing more than he’d care to admit. Sherlock’s love life had always been a mystery to him – even more so now that he knows that Sherlock was never romantically involved with Irene.

Sherlock took a long, thoughtful drag from his cigarette. “I know you think I’m a virgin, and I haven’t done much to disprove the theory. I fear that’s because it’s a history I’m not proud of. I’m not a virgin – far from it. As you know, I have a bit of a sordid past. My sexual experiences are no different, mostly involving the participation in or the procurement of drugs.”

John would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked (and maybe just a bit jealous of anyone who got to touch that beautiful man).

“I was never exclusive; never had a long-term partner. People are idiots and, even then, I didn’t care to waste my time with most of them. While many of my experiences were satisfactory, there are some I’d like to forget. I’m extremely fortunate that protection was always used – I’m clean – however, it wasn’t always nice and there were times that my consent was questionable, at best. Some of the men were rough with me, but I suppose I’ve always been one to push my limits.”

John’s stomach dropped and his fist tightened reflexively, white hot fury running through him. _If I ever find out who did that to you, I’ll make him wish he was dead._

“Men. Yes, obviously. As I’ve said before, women aren’t my area. I’ve engaged in non-penetrative acts with women but only as a means to an end, not out of pleasure.”

Irene shook her head. “Pity.”

“Once I began taking cases, the work became my top priority. The needs of my body became unimportant. I still have impulses, of course, I _am_ human, but I simply ignore them for as long as possible – much as I do with hunger or fatigue. I considered myself married to my work and the brain was the only thing that mattered. Everything else was just transport.”

Jesus, no wonder the man has so much pent up energy, John thought. He’s probably in a constant state of sexual frustration.

Irene furrowed her brow. “Okay, so when was your last fuck?”

Sherlock took another puff from his cigarette, clearly thinking hard about the answer to the question. “I suppose it was almost ten years ago.”

Irene looked horrified.

“There were a handful of close calls over the last five or six years. It was getting harder to stay immune.” Sherlock looked at John briefly but then hastily turned away. “I hit a weak point in the summer of 2014. After a night out, one thing lead to another and I went home with a man whose name I didn’t even know, but I changed my mind and left before too much happened.” He shrugged. “I bought cocaine instead.”

 _The summer of Mary and I’s wedding._ John rubbed his hands over his eyes. _Fucking hell, Sherlock._

“The years I spent being ‘dead’ made me think long and hard about intimacy and its role in my life. I was rather hoping things would be different when I returned home… Regardless, I’m learning to accept that sentiment isn’t the death of the mind. Not if I don’t want it to be. Which, as it turns out, I don’t.”

This was too much information for John to process. Sherlock did indeed have a sexual history, involving many partners and both good and bad experiences. That alone was too much to wrap his head around. On top of that, he mentioned he was hoping things would be different after his return. What did he mean by that?

“Right then,” Sherlock put out his cigarette out and returned to his chair across from John just as Irene returned to hers. “Your turn, John. Truth or dare?”

John wasn’t really ready to move on to a new topic. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed, but he shook his head and pulled himself back to reality. John felt it was only fair to divulge some information after Sherlock had opened himself up so much. “Truth.”

“What happened between you and Major Sholto?”

John reached for his glass and took a sip. He should have expected this. “Honestly, not as much as you probably think. We were really close friends for a long time. One night things just got out of hand. We were both drinking and he kissed me. I was really drunk and hadn’t had sex for a while, so I went with it. Things progressed and he ended up giving me oral sex and I gave him a hand job. The next day I felt guilty about it and told him I just wanted to stay friends, and so we did. I think he always wanted more, but I wasn’t sure I felt the same way and I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. I know I’m not gay, but there was definitely a spark of attraction there. At the time, he was the only man I had ever been attracted to, so I wasn’t sure what it was that I was feeling. Could’ve been the alcohol, could’ve been the isolation… I didn’t know if it was real, so I didn’t want to risk messing it up.”

John looked down at the floor. “Turns out, he wouldn’t be the only man I’d feel attracted to. So, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m mostly straight,” John risked a glance at Sherlock and found his icy blue eyes piercing into him, “but with a few exceptions.”

John and Sherlock maintained eye contact for a few moments longer than strictly platonic friends probably should. He was sure they were both thinking about the new information they have both learned about each other. _Maybe… maybe there’s still a chance for us._

John decided this was the night to find out. He spent too many goddam years filled with regret over what could have been. Things were already so unstable between them that he figured it would be worth the risk.

He let a smile play on his lips, silently hoping Sherlock was equally willing to push the limits. Sherlock always had a way of somehow reading his mind. John was presented with a small smile in return.  _Yes._

John turned to Irene, who was fiddling with her dressing gown, giving John an idea.

“Truth or dare, Irene?”

“Dare.”

“That’s a lovely dressing gown you have on. Swap it for Sherlock’s shirt.”

Irene looked at Sherlock and then back to John. “Ooh, yes, I think Sherlock will look remarkably good in this.”

Sherlock cocked his eyebrow at John and began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. John didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he was eagerly watching Sherlock undress. Each new patch of skin exposed sending shivers down John’s spine. For the amount of time he had spent living with Sherlock, he had surprisingly seen his flatmate’s bare chest very little.

Once the buttons were undone, Sherlock peeled the shirt off and took the dressing gown from Irene. As he reached back to put his arms through the holes, his chest stuck out on display and John couldn’t help but lick his lips. If John had a mind palace, he would be taking pictures right now to hang on his bedroom wall. It wasn’t the fact that Sherlock was wearing a woman’s lacy dressing gown that turned him on – it was the fact that Sherlock was virtually shirtless. The dressing gown fit snug on his fit body, leaving his perfect chest and abdomen exposed. God, the man was gorgeous. Lean, but muscular.

Sherlock put his arms behind his head and stretched his legs out in front of him, elongating his body and causing John’s mind to go offline for a minute. John zoned out, taking in the sight before him. When he came back to his senses, he realized Irene was whispering in Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock nodded and she walked away towards the other side of the room. When John was just about to ask Sherlock what he missed, Irene returned and sat down in her chair, handing Sherlock the bottle of whiskey. Sherlock must have chosen dare again.

Irene tapped on her phone for a moment then said, “Okay, two minutes on the clock.” Sherlock twisted the cap off the bottle. “In three, two, one, begin.”

Sherlock deliberately looked up into John’s eyes and began bringing the bottle up towards his mouth, taking a long inhale through his nose as the bottle drew closer against his face. As he exhaled, he gave John a twisted grin before breathing in the smell again, longer this time. As he breathed out, he momentarily closed his eyes and let out a low moan that set John’s senses on high alert. _What the hell is he doing?_ When he focused his eyes once more on John, he opened his mouth and let the tip of his tongue gently brush over the opening of the bottle.

_Oh fuck._

Sherlock began making slow circles around the mouth of the bottle, varying the speed and angle of his tongue. John crossed his legs and clung to the arms of the chair for dear life. After a few moments, Sherlock pressed the flat of his tongue against the bottom of the neck and licked his way up its length torturously slow, all the while keeping his eyes locked with John’s. He did this to the right side, the left side, and then the middle again, letting the mouth of the bottle linger against his bottom lip for a second before flicking it with his tongue. John suppressed the growl that was threatening to escape his mouth.

Sherlock then closed his mouth fully around the opening of the bottle and John could see that he was circling it with his tongue. He spent several seconds running his tongue along the opening before he began to suck intermittently at the tip. Little by little, he started taking the neck of the bottle further into his mouth, getting an impressive amount down his throat, before pulling it back out again. He let his speed and intensity pick up until he was fully mouth-fucking the bottle, pausing now and then to circle his tongue around its length. And _Christ_ , John was squirming. His pants were becoming tighter by the second. He knew he could make things a lot easier by simply looking away, but there was no way in hell he was taking his eyes off this.

Sherlock let out a moan and at that, John had to start thinking of things to cool him down. _Kidney in the fridge. Bloody crime scenes. Mrs. Hudson’s sex life._

He heard Irene begin counting down, “five, four, three, two…”

Sherlock sucked the bottle down one more time and then lifted the base of the bottle up high, letting alcohol spill into his mouth before pulling it out – alcohol dripping over his mouth, neck and bare chest. John’s knuckle flew to his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to hold back a groan. Luckily, Irene had shouted “one!” at the same time and then started squealing and clapping her hands, so hopefully she drowned him out. _Good God._

Sherlock screwed the cap back on, smiling at Irene and looking rather pleased with himself. John couldn’t help but think that he’d love to have that mouth working his cock like he worked that bottle just now. The man was a menace.

“Oh my God, Sherlock,” Irene cried, “the things you could do with that tongue. Not to mention those fingers. It’s really not fair.”

Sherlock grinned and looked seductively at John. “Enjoy the show, Captain?”

All John could get out was a nervous laugh before he reached for his drink and drained its contents.

Sherlock’s smile widened. “Truth or dare, John?”

“Dare.”

Sherlock studied John, as he would a new piece of evidence. John decided not to hide what his body was undoubtedly screaming so loudly that even Anderson could figure it out. John was tired of pushing down his feelings and for the first time ever, he had a glimmer of hope that his feelings might be reciprocated.

Sherlock took a deep breath and spoke so low it was practically a whisper. “Stay with me tonight, and take what you want from me.”

John shivered. Holy shit, this was way more direct than he was expecting. He considered the implications. _Take?_

“No.”

John saw the heat leave Sherlock’s eyes and in a split second, the cold, untouchable version of Sherlock returned. “I see.” Sherlock got up and walked hastily to the kitchen. _Shit._ He knew he would have to explain himself, but he didn’t expect Sherlock to change gears so quickly.

John turned to Irene. “I think you should go.”

“One step ahead of you.” She looked down at her phone. “My ride is already here.” She took off Sherlock’s shirt and folded it neatly. As she collected her personal items, she shouted, “Go ahead and keep the dressing gown, Sherlock. Consider it a souvenir. It looks better on you anyways.”

She put on her coat and opened the door, but before leaving she whispered to John, “Don’t you fucking dare mess this up.” And then she was gone, shutting the door behind her.

John took a deep breath and made his way to the kitchen. Sherlock was standing facing the opposite wall, looking down and leaning against the countertop.

“Sherlock, look at me.”

Sherlock didn’t move.

“Sherlock.”

“Just go, John.”

“I’m not leaving until you turn around. Sherlock, _look at me._ ”

Sherlock whipped around, embarrassment and hurt written all over his face.

“You know, for someone who’s so bloody brilliant you can be a real idiot sometimes.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

“You have to know I want you. God, Sherlock, I’ve wanted you since that first night at Angelo’s. You knew that. And I’ve never stopped wanting you. All these years, and I _never_ stopped wanting you. But I didn’t think you wanted me back. Until tonight. Do you? Want me?”

Sherlock looked down at his feet. “John, I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” He met John’s eyes again. “It just took me a while to realize that’s what I was feeling.”

The admission felt like a stab to John’s gut. It was so painful he couldn’t help but laugh. _All these wasted years._ He rubbed his hands over his eyes and chuckled. “Christ, so we’ve both been in love with each other all this time?”

Sherlock blinked several times. “You? Love me?”

John grinned. “Obviously. You’re the observant one. I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

“I thought perhaps my own desires were clouding my judgment. Besides, I was getting mixed signals. You did marry a woman, after all.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have if I knew there was another offer on the table.”

They smiled at each other for a few moments before Sherlock asked, “So why did you say no?”

“You dared me to take what I want from you. I don’t want to _take_ anything from you, Sherlock. It sounds to me like you’ve had too many men take what they want from you.” John threw his arms up in defeat with a look of shame. “And you know what, I’m just as bad. I’ve beat you up, more than once, and been rough with you and I’ve never forgiven myself.”

“I know, but I’ve forgiven you, John. I’ve told you that.”

“I know, and I appreciate that – more than I can say – but it doesn’t magically take the guilt away. So I’m not in a hurry to feel any more guilt when it comes to you, Sherlock. We’ve been smoking and drinking and your consent is muddled, and mine is too. And as much as I know this is what I want and I didn’t think I’d ever get this chance, I want to be fully present and remember every second of my first time with you. And I want that for you, too. If we’ve waited this long, we can certainly wait one more night.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.” John began prowling closer to Sherlock. “I’m not going to take anything from you. Not tonight. Another time, if you still want me to – and _God_ I hope you do – but not tonight.” John stopped once he was practically touching Sherlock, faces just inches apart. “Tonight, we’re going to go back into your bedroom and fall asleep next to each other. And when you wake up in the morning with my body pressed against you, you’re going to tell me if you still want me. And I should probably warn you,” John began running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, “that you really got me keyed up tonight, so I’m going to rock hard in the morning.”

Sherlock let out a breathy moan and closed his eyes. “John, how much sleep is required to get my express consent?”

John grinned and let his hands run down Sherlock’s bare chest, desire coursing through his body. “I don’t know, at least a few hours.”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open and he grabbed John’s hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. “Then we need to fall asleep as quickly as possible.”

John laughed as Sherlock frantically pulled him into the room and they flopped onto the bed without even stopping to remove any clothes. John took off his beret and set it next to the bed, smiling to himself as he imagined what Sherlock might do if he puts it on again in the morning. Despite the full evening he’s had, John realizes once he’s laid down how extremely tired he is. Thankfully he shouldn’t have a hard time getting a few hours of sleep in before the morning comes.

He looked over at Sherlock and finds that Sherlock's eyes are already closed. “John, I suggest you get some rest. You’re going to need it, for what I have in store for you.”

John smiled and felt warmth spread through his body. “There’s no rush, Sherlock. I’m free all weekend.”

“Not anymore, you’re not. In fact, I don’t suspect you’ll be stepping out of this flat for the next few days.”

“Mmm.” John pulled Sherlock in closer. “No arguments here.”

John can’t quite believe this is all real. It took so long – _too long_ – to get here, but at least they figured it out eventually. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

“Most people are.”

“I can’t believe it took Irene Adler, weed, and whiskey to get here.”

Sherlock sighed and peeled one eye open. "John, I love you, but you must stop talking. I'm trying to sleep. We need to expedite the process of sobering up so I can make love to you as soon as possible.”

John smiled and took Sherlock’s hand, bringing it to his mouth to place a tender kiss on his knuckle. “I love you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock returned a kiss to John’s hand. “I love you, John.”

“Now go to sleep. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story! I had so much fun writing it. Please leave a comment if you'd like. I'd be thrilled to hear from you!


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